


An Illicit Aside

by emblazonet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblazonet/pseuds/emblazonet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter between Obi-Wan and Cad Bane leads to Obi-Wan on his knees in a dark alley...</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Illicit Aside

**Author's Note:**

> It amuses me how Obi-Wan flirts with nearly everything he encounters. Cad Bane's entire existence amuses me. I decided they should fuck. 
> 
> Tried to be as IC as possible, but Star Wars isn't my usual fandom, so bear with me. This takes place sometime after the episodes where Obi-Wan went undercover as Rako Hardeen.

Obi-Wan stumbled into the nearest cantina, his entire body throbbing with pain. The bar was low-lit, smokey with drugs, a lone dancer gyrating in the corner. Humanoid male, he noted absently, but under the glitter and body paint and veils it was hard to tell his species. The barkeep and the two serving droids were too occupied with their full clientele to see Obi-Wan slump into a shadowed corner, tugging the hood of his robes low.  
  
In a few hours, he would heal. His connection to the Force was strong, and it would repair the torn and burned muscles, heal his heart and lungs from the effect of many shocks at the hands of torturer droids. Sleep, when he would get it, would cure fatigue. But he was exhausted now, far from a safe place to rest, and the Force was not an instant fix. He had already used up much of his attention and energy to repair his dislocated shoulder.  
  
And why was it, he wondered with real bitterness, that Anakin's plans always ended up using Obi-Wan as bait? That went for the Jedi Council too. Since the war started, he felt like nearly every mission had involved Obi-Wan playing victim, often to be tied up, tortured, whipped, shocked. Before he had the chance to turn the tables, anyway. Because Obi-Wan always had been good at making people underestimate him. But why must the reward for his talents be so much pain?  
  
Obi-Wan was immensely tired of the Clone Wars.  
  
"Well, fancy that," said a low, hoarse voice thick with menace and habitual sarcasm. "Kenobi, all alone in my favourite bar." Dismayed, Obi-Wan looked up just as Cad Bane slid into the chair on the other side of the table. When Obi-Wan said nothing, Bane added, "Ah, but I see you are incognito."  
  
Obi-Wan lifted his eyebrows. "And you, as usual, are not."  
  
It wasn't hard to mistake Cad Bane: only one Duros bounty hunter wore a hat that big. Bane fingered the brim and said, "When you're as good as I am, it's better to be seen. Keeps the riff-raff off."  
  
"And yet, so much of your work is done undercover." Obi-Wan coughed, and tasted blood. He winced internally: he didn't want to betray any weakness to the bounty hunter, but it was hard, when Obi-Wan was in as worse a shape as he'd ever been. His heart was thumping heavily as adrenaline—a second wind?—coursed through him.  
  
Yet the Force was still and quiet all around them: no attack was imminent. Yet.  
  
Bane smiled pointedly. "When you're as good as I am—"  
  
"Spare me."  
  
Bane looked up. "Hey!" He caught the arm of the barkeep, a bluish-green Rodian with nervously swivelling antennae at odds with his otherwise calm, stoic body language. "Two flameouts for my 'friend' and me."  
  
"You presume too much," said Obi-Wan, resting his elbows on the table.  
  
Cad Bane leaned over and pulled up a vacant chair so he could put his feet up on it. "You look like you could use it," he said. "I wonder what brings you to Nar Shaddaa. Maybe you enjoyed your stint as the criminal element, hmm, 'Hardeen'? Come to get more?"  
  
"I'm not slumming on purpose," said Obi-Wan. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, wishing powerfully to be anywhere else. "Last I heard, you were in prison."  
  
Bane shrugged. "You know, I'm almost grateful you landed me there. I found an entirely new escape route."  
  
"So you're a wanted man." Naturally.  
  
"You couldn't drag a kitten through the rain at the moment," said Cad Bane, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Obi-Wan shrugged. "I didn't think you, of all people, would be one to underestimate me." Each fight with the Duros had proved how dangerous Cad Bane was: he'd gone almost toe-to-toe with Jedi and come away alive. Obi-Wan couldn't say he liked Bane, but he was not too proud to admit the man had a certain amount of skill. Even if his personality left much to be desired.  
  
Cad Bane leaned forward, his red eyes glinting. "Believe me, I don't."  
  
The Rodian came around with their drinks. Obi-Wan eyed his dubiously.  
  
"I haven't bribed anyone to drug it," said Cad Bane, and with a long-suffering sigh he reached out and swapped their glasses.  
  
Obi-Wan stopped him and took back his original glass. "I confess, I don't know why you're here talking to me.  Last I remember, you were promising to kill me."  
  
"I've had time to think about that," said Bane. He swallowed his flameout and looked pleased with it.  
  
Obi-Wan was thinking straight enough that he knew he was being unwise. But his body was a giant bruise and no one knew where he was at the moment, anyway. It wasn't as if he'd be any use to Anakin, Ahsoka or Cody and the troops at the moment, and his part in the mission was over. Thankfully.  
  
He drank.  
  
And just about spat it out. The alcohol level was high enough without the spice, he thought grumpily, being at least that much familiar with the drink. He felt like he could shoot fire from his mouth. It burned away the taste of blood. Meanwhile, the rest of his body, from throat on down, felt like he'd been doused in ice. He shivered involuntarily.  
  
"As I was saying," said Bane, "I've been thinking about jobs and contracts. Seems to me, the Separatists aren't good for money anymore. They're getting mighty presumptuous—and they're backstabbers, to boot. Just isn't good business anymore."  
  
"The Republic is unlikely to hire you," said Obi-Wan. Now that the drink had settled into his body, he was starting to feel better. The flameout must be numbing him. He braced himself, and took another sip.  
  
"Oh, I'm aware. Sorta left me with only one option."  
  
"Hutts," said Obi-Wan.  
  
"Hutts," agreed Bane. "So what I'm saying, here, is I've got no grudge with you. What we did, we're even. You saved my life in that big box, I saved yours. You betrayed me, but turns out, you weren't on my side after all. Dooku betrayed me, too. To my thinking, that makes us square."  
  
"And yet, you're buying me a drink. Guess I'll have to chalk that up to my considerable charms."  
  
"I order lots of drinks," said Cad Bane with a dismissive wave of his long blue fingers. "It's a good way to get folk to talk. Sometimes I even pay for them."  
  
That was when Obi-Wan finally figured out why Cad Bane was talking to him. He was probing the Jedi for information about the Republic's or the Jedi Council's or maybe even Obi-Wan's own opinion of him, and maybe to find out whether or not someone—Obi-Wan, even—had come to claim the bounty on Bane. Obi-Wan felt an overwhelming urge to bury his head in his hands, but resisted. His thinking was so slow, thanks to his injuries and exhaustion. It was frustrating.  
  
The door of the cantina swung open. A familiar red-orange Twi'lek entered, and Obi-Wan winced and tried to stand. "I have to leave," he said. "Thanks for the drink."  
  
Cad Bane looked at the Twi'lek, who was being followed into the cantina by a band of thugs, then back at Obi-Wan, who stood only by bracing one palm on the tabletop. "You're a real mess," he commented. He tossed some credits onto the table, and grabbed one of Obi-Wan's arms, steadying him. Before Obi-Wan had quite registered it, Bane had led him around a partition, through a curtain, and out into an alley.  
  
"We weren't seen," said Bane, and led Obi-Wan down a few corners until he was satisfied. Obi-Wan sagged back against a warehouse wall.  
  
"I just need to... send coordinates... to Cody..." gasped Obi-Wan. His ribs hurt, and his lungs ached. "He needs to know Vareo'dek is there." He punched buttons on his comlink, then sagged against the wall.  
  
"Ah. The separatist. I see." Cad Bane crossed his arms, drumming his fingertips. "I suppose he tortured you. I've heard of the guy."  
  
Obi-Wan winced.  
  
"So now I'd say you're in my debt," said Bane.  
  
"For a drink and a getaway I could have managed myself?" said Obi-Wan with a startled laugh. "What do you want for that-an escort to the nearest transit station? Or are you expecting a back alley blowjob?"  
  
Now that was something an angry Anakin might have said, shortly before drawing his lightsaber. Much as Obi-Wan loved his former apprentice, he wasn't sure he wanted Anakin to have this much influence on Obi-Wan's mannerisms. Not to mention combat was a bit beyond Obi-Wan's capabilities just at the moment.  
  
Bane tapped his mouth with a long finger thoughtfully. "Now, I wouldn't say no to that," he said, and grinned, showing his pointed teeth.  
  
At that moment, Obi-Wan's knees buckled. Just my luck, he thought with numbed shock. He looked up, eye-level with Bane's crotch. The bounty hunter stepped forward.  
  
"You can't think—" Obi-Wan hardly knew what to add to that.  
  
"I think there's not much else you can do," said Cad Bane. He tilted his head to the side and watched Obi-Wan, and there was a confused, charged look between them.  
  
Obi-Wan swallowed reflexively and found his hands had reached out, and he was unfastening Bane's trousers. And it was of his own volition. Something—the pain in his body, the adrenaline of the proximity to enemies, the taste of flameout, all combined, made him far more aroused that he really ought to have been.  
  
Anakin, in this position, would fight until his dying breath—this war had taught Obi-Wan that. Anakin would see this as debasement. As would The Jedi Order, which discouraged sexual liaisons—how many times had Obi-Wan turned Satine down? And yet, that was an emotional attachment. This most certainly was not. Quinlan Vos, perhaps, might be the type to actually consider this... but Quinlan was not exactly the best role model for anyone, Jedi or no.  
  
Stupid, he told himself, but he was hard well before he managed to undo the fastenings. Bane's cock was slender and half-hard, and didn't taste much different than a human's. Obi-Wan did not have a particularly extensive sexual history, but he'd nonetheless experienced a number of situations as a young fumbling boy fighting to balance teenage hormones and the Jedi Code. Many of which had included oral.  
  
Bane's cock hardened as Obi-Wan stroked the base and leaned forward to take it into his mouth. Bane hissed, and braced his hands on the warehouse wall, thrusting his cock farther into Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan gagged and felt his head bang back into the wall. He blinked stars from his vision. His head throbbed. Bane's cock slipped from his mouth, and then Bane angled himself so his cock was pressing against Obi-Wan's mouth, but not entering. Obi-Wan looked up and saw that the Duros looked almost abashed, unable to meet Obi-Wan's gaze.  
  
Slowly, Obi-Wan ran his tongue up the shaft. Bane's breathing came harsher and louder as Obi-Wan tongued the head of his cock with slow broad strokes. There were no more eager thrusts, but when Obi-Wan looked up he could see Bane's arms shaking. The Duros looked down at him with half-slit eyes, his mouth a little open, panting.  
  
He took the cock as deeply as he could, then slid slowly back up, his tongue rubbing in half-circles. He braced himself with one hand on Bane's thigh. His right hand stroked Bane's balls. In the dim lights that filtered into the alley, Bane's cock glistened wetly with Obi-Wan's saliva. Obi-Wan licked his lips, then took Bane's cock deeper in his mouth, moving his head faster over the shaft.  
  
It was strange, how battle-adrenaline and pain could transmute into raw lust, lust that overrode exhaustion. His right hand fell away from Bane's cock as he worked it with his mouth. He fumbled under his own robe, working his hand into his clothing to stroke his own cock. He groaned around his mouthful, and above him Bane echoed the sound.  
  
Now Bane was thrusting, in little short jerks of his hips, as if unable to help himself. That made Obi-Wan more excited than he could have imagined, and he sucked harder, his mouth stroking quickly over the blue shaft.  
  
"You're better at this than I expected, Kenobi," rasped Bane.  
  
There wasn't anything to say to that. Obi-Wan stroked himself to the pace he set on Bane's cock, and he could feel the coolness of mingled saliva and precome dripping over his mouth, into his beard, first a little, then glittering strings of it, and he closed his eyes, his hand jerking over his cock—he was so close, but he didn't want to come in his clothes, here in a narrow alley on Nar Shaddaa.  
  
"Yesss," hissed Bane, pressing forward. Obi-Wan's head was inches from the wall, and he was snug between wall and bounty hunter. "Faster," Bane ordered-and in a moment, when Obi-Wan hadn't obliged, he whined, "faster. Please..." and Obi-Wan, despite himself, smirked around his mouthful and obliged.  
  
Bane grabbed Obi-Wan's hair tightly, partially, Obi-Wan thought, to protect it from banging into the wall again, and partly to hold it in place while Bane pushed his cock in as far as Obi-Wan could take it and came with a muttered string of curses. Obi-Wan swallowed the warm gush of it reflexively.  
  
Obi-Wan's fingers worked his own cock free of his clothes, stroking hard as Bane's cock slipped out of his mouth. Bane half turned, tucking everything neatly back into place, his long hands deft on the fastenings of his trousers and belt. Obi-Wan came, panting, over the alley floor. His hands shook as he fixed his own clothing.  
  
The sound of blaster bolts erupted from the direction of the cantina.  
  
Obi-Wan braced himself on the wall, staggering to his feet. He wiped his mouth and beard with the sleeves of his robe. He checked himself for lightsaber and blaster, and found them exactly where they should be. He closed his eyes and concentrated. There was that unmistakable presence in the Force, which meant-  
  
"Anakin," he said, as much to himself as to Cad Bane. His guess was Anakin and his troopers were taking down that Twi'lek separatist, Vareo'dek.  
  
"Well, I'll be leaving you to your fellow Jedi, then," said Cad Bane. He nodded to Obi-Wan and tipped his hat. "And—thanks," he said, unable to meet Obi-Wan's eyes. He turned on his heel and strode down the alley in the opposite direction, his coat billowing out behind him, vanishing into the smoggy darkness of the Nar Shaddaa night.  
  
Obi-Wan dragged in a breath, trying not to stare after Bane. Could he even explain this to himself? He certainly didn't ever want to see Bane again. He limped back towards the cantina. As the effects of lust wore off, Obi-Wan's limbs seemed to become more capable of carrying him. And the Force was around him, restoring his strength slowly. Soon, he would be back in the midst of battle, whether that day or in the next week. And if someone had given him the choice between illicit, lewd encounters behind shady cantinas instead of the endless destruction and killing and death of war, he realized he would pick the former every time.  



End file.
